


This is the Beat of My Heart

by TheClicheInLife



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, There is some slight Cullen/Inquisitor if you squint, This is me mourning my egg, Trespasser Spoilers, solavellan hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheClicheInLife/pseuds/TheClicheInLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fingers aching, twisting, not like before; taut and tearing, her palm burns, aching, screaming, shouting as the sun sunders her. Stones buried in bloodied knees, silent sobbing, screaming, begging, the pain is almost more than she can bear.” How many times could she let him walk away before she would finally let him go, Bridget wondered absently as he slipped through the eluvian in front of her and out of her life again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is the Beat of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just me crying over Tresspasser DLC and a character study for Bre'alas "Bridget" Lavellan and the end events of Tresspasser; because let me tell you, doing a Solasmance first was the most painful thing I've ever experienced in my Bioware adventures.

_“Fingers aching, twisting, not like before; taut and tearing, her palm burns, aching, screaming, shouting as the sun sunders her. Stones buried in bloodied knees, silent sobbing, screaming, begging, the pain is almost more than she can bear.”_

_“He calls her vhenan and it doesn’t hurt anymore, soft, gentle words soothe the burning, biting, bitter, beating that matches her heart, he can stop it, at least for now. Measured words, careful glances, not too much, never too much, the tipping point too close to tell.”_

_“Fading footsteps, Fen’Harel, feared, forgotten, forgiven, she still loves him. Begging, broken, bleeding. You don’t need to do this. Ar lath ma. We will find a way to make it through this. Together. Turning, Twisting. Too far to turn back. He would mourn her on the path he must walk alone. For her death is also on his hands.”_

How many times could she let him walk away before she would finally let him go, Bridget wondered absently as he slipped through the eluvian in front of her and out of her life again. Probably for good this time, she mused, considering the pulses that now seemed to be consuming her entire body.  Exhaustion seemed to come over her in waves now, abandoned again, dying, broken, and alone; she knew too much, felt too much, and in truth, she was glad that it was over. Her world spun and her body crashed into the ground, gravel biting into her cheek her world tilted and vision became spotted with black. Arms cradled and carried her out of the crossroads, her protests lost to a sea of black she clutched her arm tighter and prayed for the pain to end.

The room was dim and the din outside was little more than a hum and she curled up tighter, subconsciously clutching her left arm, the ache was constant and she loathed it, loathed everything, loathed Orlais, the Ferelden, the Inquisition, her own hand… She shot up in bed now, she was dying, dying because of him, because of this hand. Right hand nails now carving angry pink lines into her wrist her eyes searched for something sharper, nails digging deeper, creating scarlet streaks against the pale canvas of her wrist. She needed something to stop this thing that was killing her. She didn’t want to die now; she had to help  _her people_ save  _her people_  from Ferelden and Orlais and Solas… Gods, she had to save them from Solas and to do that she had to…

Her eyes fell upon her gear, neatly folded on the chair in the corner of her room, and she quietly rose from her bed, furiously searching through her pack for the dagger she kept there. Hands shaking her fingers tighten around the grip and grabbing her belt she made her way back to the bed, intent on what she was about to do. Belt locked tightly between her teeth she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of anything but what she was about to do, and her thoughts drifted back to her home, her people, her mother’s hands gently braiding her hair while humming a lullaby.

_Tel'enfenim, da'len. Irassal ma ghilas. Ma garas mir renan, ara ma'athlan vhenas, ara ma'athlan vhenas._

The pain of losing her hand still less than the ever present burning and tearing of the anchor, she held back a sob, her hand, once gently stroked and observed and tenderly cared for, and now, the belt bit back the sounds of her sobs as her sheets were dyed crimson with her blood and tears. Throwing the dagger across the room she ripped at what remained of the once white sheet, and wrapped the now missing appendage to staunch the bleeding with the strips of pristine white cloth soon soaked with blood. Body shaking from the adrenaline and shock at what she had just done, she stumbled to the door, taking a deep breath before she opened it, she was relieved to see that it was Cullen on the other side; uncertain if she could have faced Nicole in the face of what she had just done.

She imagined she must have been a sight, tear stained cheeks, blood stained undershirt and crimson colored sheet wrapped around what was left of her left arm. His eyes widened as she stumbled out of the room, worry creased in every feature, “Inquisitor are you—” His eyes fell to her arm and her eyes cast to the ground, unsure of how to explain exactly what she had done, before she could respond however, his hand reached for her arm, much more gently than she had ever expected him to. It was more gentle than anyone had been with her in recent memory, and in truth, she was thankful.

She leaned into his touch as he observed her handiwork, words still eluding her as black spots started dotting her vision once more; this time, she was certain it was from blood loss and she began leaning into him, afraid that she would fall otherwise. “…I didn’t want to die.” Seeming to notice her shift of weight into him his other hand found purchase at her waist and she rested her head against his arm, adrenaline leaving her system, leaving her aching and exhausted. “…could you bring me an elfroot poultice and some clean bandages?” Her head was spinning more now and she leaned all of her weight into him, and before she could protest, he had lifted her up and returned her to her bed, pulling up the remnants of her ripped and blood soaked sheets as he did so. Head dipping she managed to mumble out, “And please don’t tell Nicole or Josephine. I don’t need them worrying about me.” Curling back up into bed she clutched her left arm once more and gave Cullen a small smile, “Cullen… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Reaching up with a shaking hand she grabbed his wrist, her words now a whisper against cracked lips, “Thank you.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Cullen’s lips, “You’re welcome.”


End file.
